Smiling Gently
by XPlainJaneX
Summary: she sat on the step beside him, hands still entwined with Luna's and stared at him with that dazed unfocused look that caused the already painful ache in his heart to intensify. She used to be so brilliant. And now she was this shell.
1. Chapter 1

**Song to be played: My immortal by Evanescence **

It wasn't the first funeral of the week or even the day, hell it wouldn't even be the last. Almost everyone had lost someone and funerals were losing their shock value. The deaths and heartache were just melding into this great parade of pain and numbness and _ordinary. _

That was possibly the second saddest part of the whole affair, that an event connected with Fred on any level would be this… this…

Bland.

But it was.

He couldn't look at the casket. It was sickening. It was not just the thought of his brother, his best mate, cold and dead that kept his eyes lowered. To look at the casket, it was like he was seeing himself.

_That could be me lying there. Ready to be buried, ready to be turned into dust and worm food._

Morbidly he wonders if it would not have been better to die with him, rather than having to look at his own death and keep on living. Well, he guessed he could use the term 'living' loosely. Spending most of one's time sloshed or sobbing like a baby isn't exactly seizing every moment, now is it?

But then what else was he to do? He wasn't used to functioning alone before. Every thought seemed wrong and ill prepared. Before there had always been Fred, right there by his side, thinking the exact same thing as him. He was there to tinker and iron press his thoughts into brilliance and vice versa. But now, there was no one double checking his thoughts, no safety net or reassurance. For the first time in his life there wasn't someone that just _knew_.

It was the most frightening thing in his existence now.

Which is saying something, he once caught Ron in the middle of a wank to professor Snape's photograph.

_EWW_

He had never told Fred about that one. He wanted to spare him the nightmares.

He should have told him.

Now he never could.

_Oh Merlin. I can't do this._

He glances quickly up at the body lying on display in the middle of his parents' backyard, pushed to the background as people focus on yet another speech listing all of Fred's virtues and triumphs.

_Couldn't tell while he was alive though could you? _He thought bitterly, unconsciously bringing the flask he had hidden in his robes to his lips.

The burn of alcohol rushing down his throat stilled his angry bitter thoughts and he quickly glanced away. Looking up at Fred's body was making his emotions run high. He needed to look away.

He needed to find a distraction.

He was seated at the back, so it wasn't so hard to look about at the people around him without getting caught; so many were crying. Why weren't they all cried out yet? He was, at least when he was mildly sober.

He didn't want to see crying. It would only remind him of the depth of his own desire to cry. But the crying usually lead to the sobbing and the sobbing to the screaming and that would land him back to the Burrow, under his mother's watchful gaze, and away from the pubs and blissful alcohol.

Suddenly a delighted feminine giggle filled the air.

There was a shifting in the seats around the giggler, a low murmur of reproach, then nothing else.

George looked to his right and studied the giggler.

She had a dazed look to her face, like she wasn't there… at a funeral… at Fred's funeral.

She was beautiful, despite the vacant expression. Petite and delicate, she had a very child-like innocence.

Her blonde friend beside her grasped one of her hands which he had just now realized had been busy digging into her thigh. The blonde hushed and cooed at the girl until her glazed eyes seemed to droop and she seemed to relax into a state of semi-awareness. She had been rocking slightly since that person had reprimanded her for her inappropriate sounds. That must have also been when she had begun to claw at her leg.

The girl stroked the hand that now held hers, tracing lines and smiling sweetly as the fingers in her hands flexed and fluttered for her amusement.

It wasn't right what the war did to people.

Death was harsh, unchangeable, but then it would have had to happened eventually.

What happened to that girl was disgusting. She had been taken by some Death Eaters amid the confusion of Moldy's defeat, how she got away weeks later is still a mystery.

They all could only guess at what had happened to her during that time to make her snap. It was a miracle she was even here. The doctors at St. Mungo's had only just released her from the mental ward. There was nothing left for them to do. Since she could function… to an extent, she didn't need to stay there.

That giggle had been the first sound she had made in his hearing since she had been home. Now that he thought about it he had missed that sound.

Laughter.

He and Fred used to live on it; it was their drug of choice, but now…

Suddenly, he was angry at whoever had silenced her. Did they not know who she was? Did they not know that if she of all people had something to laugh about then they should let it be? Just because they were all miserable and broken and bitter and sacred and… and … and…

Perhaps she wasn't the best distraction.

The flask had made it back to his lips.

His eyes flitted around after that, landing no where in particular, but always seeming to glance back at the two places he wished not to look, at the casket and the girl.

It seemed like hours before it came to an end. People rushed to him or his parents to consol and speak of insincere and unfulfilling words. It all meant nothing. But like a dutiful he could sometimes pretend to be, he stood there and nodded at the appropriate times and returned to them his insincere thanks.

They all made their way inside, where food and drink await. But he could not bring himself to go beyond the back porch stairs. He didn't want to be with people.

The back door slammed.

_Damn. _

_People._

Foot steps are heard heading towards him and he looks up.

"Hello George." says Luna Lovegood in her breathy voice, "You'll be happy to know that there aren't half as many wall-wally tooms about you as there half an hour a go. I think that's a good sign that sometime soon there won't be any at all."

"Uhhh…thanks, Luna." Through out her small speech he had been trying to ignore the other girl that had come up beside him, but like earlier he could not.

Hermione Granger sat on the step beside him, hands still entwined with Luna's and stared at him with that dazed unfocused look that caused the already painful ache in his heart to intensify. She used to be so brilliant. And now she was this shell.

He had to look away. He couldn't take it anymore; the pain, the useless words, all of it. The flask was half way to his mouth when it happened.

Two small, frail arms wrapped their way around him and held him in a vice grip. He looked down at the mass of curls attached to him and wondered at the embrace. No had hugged him since that day besides his mum and she kind of suffocated him. This was sort of… nice.

When she finally let go and looked at him, a flash of understand passed through her eyes. But as fast as it appeared it was gone and the glazed look was back. She turned from him and began playing with Luna's fingers again, rocking slightly in unease.

"She's not gone you know." Luna said after a time. "She's just a little lost. With a brain as complex and brilliant as hers, it really isn't as surprising as everyone else makes it."

He said nothing, just continued to watch her.

"We'll be going now, I can see your done talking and just to polite to say so, Harry has the same problem you know." She stood up and brought Hermione with her. "Do you mind if we pop by the shop on Friday?"

George shrugged, he hadn't been to the shop since it happened. Now that he thought about it he probably should, Merlin only knew what his brothers had gotten into while he wasn't there. "Sure Luna, bye. Bye 'Mione."

He looked up to the girl again. She was playing with a bit of Luna's hair now, but at the use of her nickname, she began to gently smile.

**A/N: ok, the whole fic will hopefully not be this depressing, but hey it just might. I'm really looking forward to writing Luna and one of the twins. I feel really bad that I had to kill off Fred, but hey, J.K did it first. **

**REVIEW… and let me know if this is something to continue exploring. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Song to be played:**

**Six feet from the edge By Creed… not sold on this song… am open to suggestions. **

At first, George was sure that leaving the shop in the hands of Ron and Charlie for a few weeks would be a fine idea. Not that he really made the decision at the time, it was noon, he was pissed off his arse, and they kind of just walked into his flat, took the bottle from his mouth and _told _him it was a fine idea. But upon sober reflection (sort of) he decided they were right.

_Oh how wrong I was_.

The Skiving Snack boxes needed to be reorganized, the window display was decidedly just wrong, the Ton-Tongue Toffees were mixed in with the Canary Creams, not to mention the Extendable Ears were tangled tighter than that twit Trelawney's teaching techniques!

And the Pygmy Puffs! For the love of Merlin, the Pygmy Puffs were loose and trying to mate with the Ever-Fluff-And-Never-Tough Cotton Candy!

Which was resulting in loads of questioning concerns from the Department of Animal Regulation and Restrictions and many a pissed off mums that are not so concerned with property damage or assault laws.

_But in all fairness it was the kid's own fault for A) not questioning abnormal substances on the candy and B) buying candy in a joke shop being run by a man with the mental capacity of a flobberworm and a dragon tamer who hasn't been around anything that wouldn't try to eat him for more than a few years. _

All this George could deal with; the mess, the mayhem, even the ministry workers, but he could not and _should_ not have to deal with the keeping the books.

He didn't even know where to begin. Fred always handled the books, while he always handled the display arrangements. Those were the only two things they did not share responsibilities of.

Was there a system to this… this… atrocity? Or was there at least one _before_ Ron and Charlie invaded? If there was could he figure it out? There were numbers in to corners of some things and letters on others, so does that mean they were in different categories or subcategories of a larger category?

Why hadn't Fred ever sat me down and told me this secret system?

…_the git probably thought it would be funny to watch me struggle sometime when he was sick or something… bit of a delayed prank… doesn't do you much good if you aren't here to see it though brother…_

"ARUGH!" George yelled out before bringing his face down on the table, pile of papers doing nothing to soften the impacted.

God, how he wanted a drink.

"Oh dear, are you trying to kill the wall-wally tooms? Laughter works much better than physical violence. Of course, how they got into a joke shop is a bit odd… do you think there might be an infestation problem?"

George almost didn't bother to raise his head. But he managed to lift it up just enough so he could tilt his face toward the two girls standing in the doorway of his workroom.

"What you doing here? The shop is closed today." He tried not to let out the long suffering sigh that was just aching to escape. It's not that he didn't like their company, in fact he like their company above anyone else still living, but he just wasn't in the mood for _people_ right now.

Luna's head sort of cocked to the side and studied him. "You said we could come by on Friday, did you not?"

"That was three weeks ago!"

He hadn't meant to say that quite as loudly as he had, but the whimper that leaked out from behind Luna's shoulder told him that he had. He slammed his head back down onto the table. This is why he didn't want to be around people.

"Sorry 'Mione. Sorry Luna, just a bit stressed getting the shop back in order and I can't make heads or tails of this here mess and its left me a bit stressed. Forgive me?" he looked up at them with his best impression of a smile and fluttered his eye lashes in a mock flirtatious manner.

A pair of brown eyes peeked out from behind the blonde's shoulder and after a moment cocked her head to the side just like Luna's still was. But while Luna's eyes seemed to be examining the space around him—maybe she thought she could read his aura?—Hermione's eyes focused on his eyes and then drifted down to the mess of papers on the table below him. She nudged the girl in front of her, causing Luna to step closer and when she followed, both Luna and George understood that she wanted to go closer to the table but not without a buffer.

So the blonde went and sat at the table across from George still looking at the space where George was—but not really looking at George—and the brunette ghosted her fingertips over the papers. She looked at him then, through her lashes, as she began to rock from side to side and stopped her fingers' searching. He nodded his head in permission and watched as she gathered each paper into neat orderly piles, eyes scanning each one quickly, eyes flickering from page to page.

"Why didn't you just use magic?" Luna asked quietly as she too observed her curly haired friend.

"All our paper work has to be organized and handled without magic. We use specially made enchanted paper that does not respond to magic. We thought that it would help prevent thievery, you know? You can't summon it, duplicate it, or manipulate it, none of that, using magic. Bit of a pain though when your partner dies without telling you the organizational system."

He laughed bitterly, having to look down so that they wouldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes.

Light fingers began to brush the hair behind his one ear in a very child-like gesture of comfort. Like when a toddler pats a pet when it whimpers. And he looked up at her, still easing for side to side, not comfortable with the contact or the closeness, yet enduring it, because somewhere in there, Hermione knew. Knew that a small gesture, a small physical touch of support, is what he needed.

And it hurt.

It hurt to know that this broken, hallow shell of a woman, could read and comfort him better than any of the multitude of family, willing and ready to comfort him on a moment's notice.

She had never taken her eyes off of the work in front of her, simply done without her second hand; eyes still flicking as her fingers soothed him to calm.

"We actually came here today to ask for you help, George." Luna's breathy voice broke into that calm, dragging him back to the sensations of reality. Those sensations were not as pleasant as they had once been.

When Luna spoke the fingers stopped their brushing, easing to down to give his shoulder a pat and resumed their earlier work of sorting and flipping. George was slightly remorseful for the loss but tried to focus on her words. "What do ya' need?"

"Well you see, I need to go to this conference in Nepal for the Quibbler—Daddy can't travel that far without upsetting his injuries from the final battle. And although Hermione was fine staying with us when I can be with her, I'm afraid she won't take too kindly to being alone with Daddy. He's oh so forgetful sometimes and might do something to upset her. Would you mind terribly if she stays with you?"

"Why not the Burrow?"

"Too many people. Too many males. Too many mermories. Too many reasons really."

"How long will you be gone?"

"Oh, no more than four, five days tops!" George stared at her in disbelief.

"So let me get this straight. You want the girl who obviously can't stand the presence of men, or people, to stay here? Alone… with me? A male? In a joke shop… with people?"

The blonde nodded her head vigorously.

"Why?" he asked, trying to grasp at any plausible reason Luna would even suggest the idea.

"She likes you," was her simple response.

_Sure why not. Who could argue cold hard facts like that? I mean really, forget the fact that I'm a miserable drunk who barely drags himself out of bed, let alone takes care of himself. Yes, let's put the traumatized, man-a-phobic, psychotically damaged girl in your care. What's the worst that could happen?_

"Alright when do you leave?"

"Tonight."

_Shit._

_

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**A/N: dun dun dun dunnnnn! Ok so review. Tell me what you think. Do you think this should evolve into a Luna/Hermione/George relationship? The idea keeps popping into my head and yet… IDK… maybe I should leave it that way it is. **

**REVIEW! **


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